All popped. All buttered.
It was like a corn field gangbanged a matinée movie.
“Dinner’s on us, rookie.” Ray slapped my shoulder. “Too bad you pissed off the missus. You could have had a nice movie night together.”
The guys snapped the obligatory pictures and cackled, leaving me to shovel my way into a car that had housed popcorn for an entire ninety-degree day. Kinda smelled like Uncle Bowie’s feet.
That reminded me I had to call Bast. I hadn’t read to him in three days.
That made me feel even more like an asshole.
At least I could put my Tinkerbell book bag to use. I shoveled some of the popcorn from my seats, just to tunnel my way through the car and sit like the prize in a Crackerjack box through Ironfield’s traffic.
The stress was getting to me. I slammed my front door.
Hungry. Exhausted. Slimy with butter.
Pissed at myself for pissing off Elle.
But there was nothing I could do about it. I’d call her later, after I talked to Bast.
If either of them wanted to talk to me. Seemed unlikely.
I turned on the television, but my phone rang before I could sit down. It wasn’t Elle—it was Mom.
Great, first my wife watched me fuck up at practice, and now my mother was calling to check-in. Why did she have to sound so cheerful? I didn’t have the energy to bluff my way through a conversation.
“What’s up, Mom?”
“Oh, Honey. I just saw you on TV. You look so handsome!”
TV? Great. I collapsed on the couch and stared at the television. Sports Nation ran through a recap of the league’s training camps. My finger hovered over the mute button until they started talking about the Rivets.
And my grinning face filled the screen.
“The Ironfield Rivets’ had a great draft—on paper.” The reporter talking had some ungodly jowls. Ainsley Ruport wasn’t a fan of Ironfield, and he made his bias well known. The asshole was greying and fat, and I figured he’d eat the pigskin before throwing it. “But this wouldn’t be the first time the scouts got it wrong.”
“Lachlan, I don’t want you to be worried,” Mom said.
Well, that wasn’t a good start to the conversation. “What’s wrong? Is it Bast?”
“Oh no. He’s fine. Drew a picture of you in your uniform today at school. It’s on the fridge, you’ll have to autograph it for him. He’s just so thrilled about—”
“Mom, focus. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, right. Well…you should know, Victoria stopped by here earlier today.”
I clutched the phone, nearly kicking the coffee table over as I leapt to my feet. “She what?”
“She was looking for you.”
The TV flashed to an image of me in college, catching a touchdown pass during my last bowl game. “We have reports that first-rounder Lachlan Reed is having difficulty during this camp. Though highly rated by every scout at the combine, many teams are breathing a sigh of relief today, fortunate they didn’t sign this uncertain prospect.”
Mom tried to calm me down. “She said she wanted to talk.”
“What the hell is she doing showing up there? Especially after the shit she pulled five years ago?”
“I know, honey. But you might have to meet her.”
“I got absolutely nothing to say to her.”
“You might not have a choice. She said she wanted to talk with you…or she was getting a lawyer.”
“Bullshit. With what money?”
“Probably your millions, Lachlan. We knew this was a possibility when you got drafted. She was going to see you on television and try her luck again.”
“And she doesn’t care whose life she’ll ruin.”
The television droned on. “This wouldn’t be the first time a highly commended draft choice choked during training camp. The Rivets have a tough decision ahead of them, especially if they are willing to wait to see if Reed’s performance improves. Fortunately for Ironfield, Reed’s rather lucrative contract can be terminated without a hit to the salary cap—”
I turned the television off and pitched the remote into the wall.
It shattered, and my heart nearly stopped with it.
Christ. I’d never broken anything in anger before.
I’d never had trouble on the field either.
And I’d fucking never imagined myself snapping at the woman of my dreams without trying to fix it.
My head hurt, and I hated myself for being such a goddamned coward.
“Mom, I’ll take care of Victoria.” I rubbed my face. “Do me a favor. I got something going on tonight. Tell Bast I’ll call him tomorrow?”
“He misses you, Lachlan.”
“I know. It’s just…” I sighed. “Things have gotten a little intense.”